


Of Band T-Shirts and Muscly Arms.

by folkykindoftune



Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: First Crush, Fluff, I don't know, M/M, fuck off, it's cute and fluffy okay go away, what else do i tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 18:57:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/folkykindoftune/pseuds/folkykindoftune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint likes 70s metal and folky indie music and decides to show his love with band t-shirts. Phil is flustered.</p><p>For Moira, with all my love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Band T-Shirts and Muscly Arms.

Phil isn't sure exactly when, or why, it starts. But one seemingly normal Friday morning, Clint comes strolling through the doors in a ripped, faded Ramones t-shirt.

It clings to Clint's torso in all the right (no wrong so very very wrong) ways and he wants to scream, because honestly, how dare he? So he goes about the rest of his day trying his hardest to avoid Clint because Lord help him it should be fucking illegal to wear band t-shirts to work.

\- - -

He seems to have a different band shirt for every day of the week. Monday it was a deep berry-hued Led Zepplin shirt that rode up to show a pointed hip bone and toned stomach. Tuesday brought a Beatles baseball tee with black sleeves and a hole in the collar that Phil desperately wants to stick his finger through to touch baby smooth skin.

But Friday, oh Friday is the last straw.

Phil sits at his desk, coffee in hand, pencil perched on paper, when he hears his office door click open. "Can it wait, I'm a little b--" And he almost spits his coffee everywhere, because Lord Almighty, Clint Barton is beautiful. Today's t-shirt is a sinfully, sinfully tight one; blindingly white against the tan of his arms, and Phil isn't sure who Vampire Weekend is, but God bless them. Every last one of them. "What can I do for you, Barton?" He says, coolly as he can.

"Hi, Phil. So uh, I was wondering. There's this thing in New York next week, and I really wanna go." He pauses, shifting on his feet and running his fingers through his hair. "Do you," Another pause, a shaky exhale. "Do you wanna go with me? Because it's like, I never get to see you outside of work, and I think you're totally cool, and I see you eyeing my band t-shirts a lot so I figured I'd invite you because you like music and I like music and it would be super awesome." Clint finally breathes and looks up at Phil, like the weight of the world rests on this answer.

"Um." And that's all he can say right now, he's frozen because Clint wants to do something with him? Clint Barton? Phil puts down his coffee cup, and picks at a hangnail for a few excruciating seconds. "Yeah." The audible sigh of relief he gets from Clint is music to his ears. "Yeah, that sounds like a rager. Pick me up at 5, tiger." He winks and clicks his tongue to lighten the mood, and Clint throws his head back and laughs.

"Awesome. Awesome, I'll see you Thursday." He turns and begins to leave, but pauses at the door. "Hey, Coulson. Let's see if we can squeeze you into one of my tees."

"I got dibs on the Zepplin one."

"Fuck you, Coulson."

"Buy me dinner first, Barton."


End file.
